


Bookworm

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: The Brightest Witch Of Her Age [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:36:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: Hermione knows that she isn't going back to sleep.Viktor knows that the path ahead isn't going to be easy.





	Bookworm

Screaming.

Sometimes, she's lucky enough that it isn't her own voice. Sometimes it's her parents, or someone else on the battlefield that never was, sometimes it's friends that don't even know that she exists. 

But she's not that lucky that often. 

Tonight, it's her voice and the cackling of another above her, swirling around, demanding answers, answers to questions she wouldn't ever give.

Tonight, it's a pain that seems to only grow and ebb into the poltergeist of it before reviving by some other power to assault every particle of what had been labeled as Hermione Jean Granger for all these years. She's sure even the forgotten parts of her feel it and are screaming out against the curse.

_ You're lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! _

How much had Bellatrix enjoyed it, watching her writhe on the floor and cry out beyond her own intellect--nothing more than a wounded, tortured animal gasping for mercy on the floor? How she’d forced the pain forward, to block Bellatrix from her mind as she leaned over Hermione pinning her down as she probed her mind and cut into her arm over and over again.

Dark red blood sluiced down the curve of her brown arm, for a moment she wondered if she could melt herself down, melanin and all, to simply melt into the floor if she tried hard enough. 

_ What else did you take? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife! What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME!  _

The sting of her boot in her side.

_ CRUCIO!  _

Screaming.

_ You’ll watch them scream, you filthy little mudblood. I’ll torture them myself  _

_ How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin  _ _ in the cellar help you? _

**_We only met him tonight! We've never been inside your vault... It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy…_ **

_ She'd pleaded, at once separated from her body and attached to it. Taking every tidbit of information that had come from that psychotic mouth and holding it, knuckle white as she screamed. Forcing her mind’s walls to hold. She was stronger than this… so much stronger. Bellatrix’s knife to her throat, pressing cold and easy, threatening.  _

I’m going to die, she thought with a stunning clarity, closing her eyes.  _ I’m sorry _ ...

_ I’ll cut your throat-- _

She sat up screaming, panting, sweating in bed...A memory that plagued her and the terrible fear that she would be engulfed in that green light and truly cease to exist.

Her hands shook, her heart hammered, she rolled out of bed, getting dressed as if she was going to work, grabbed her wand out of her locked cabinet, and nearly ran to the nearest entrance, three miles from her flat. She spoke the password and entered the library and reached for the first book on the shelf, committing her hands to holding the pages open, her shifting eyes to the steady motion of left to right, down, left to right, down...left to right down…

... _ you can find these particular creatures in the tropics only. Unlike the Dementor-- _

_"_ You're a bit early aren't you?”

She looked up, breathing and blinking as if surfacing from some great depth. Her mind recalling the words she'd ingested out of desperation. How many books would it take tonight? How much would it take to make her heart calm, to anchor her back into her skin, back into the present? She remembered that after her grandmother’s death, she’d read for three days straight, two days for erasing her parents’ memories. 

She'd started in the History section, the History of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and ended up in Magical Creatures…

It hadn't been this bad since…

“Hermione you look terrible! What happened?”LiAnn asked seeing her. 

“Just…” Hermione started. “Just a rough night.”

*

_ Mandrake...peppers… cloth bandages… sweat… _

He opened his eyes to see the ceiling in white and sat up. He felt… sluggish maybe… definitely out of sorts as he looked around the room. The door opened and he looked at it. The creature coming towards him. Its face cut in planes that weren’t familiar to him. He moved back, crawling away from the creature who only continued to chase after him. He bared his teeth, feeling the warmth in his chest as his feet hit the floor and he prowled back, glaring at the creature before he rumbled low and dangerous at it. 

The thing flinched back and moved to the door, leaning out of it to let out sounds that Cyrus couldn't fully understand before more of those creatures appeared. Cyrus only rumbled louder, opening his mouth with a hot and bright warning. 

They came closer saying things that he couldn’t understand, closer and closer with those sounds he didn’t like and he screamed, scorching them with it, throwing them back and into the wall hard. More creatures like them came with sticks that glowed and pointed at him. He held up a hand and watched the balls of light deflect. The ones that had been injured were dragged out, screaming from the burns. 

Another person came in, screaming and shoving the creatures with sticks back towards the door, shoving their arms and sticks down and turned. 

This one… 

He knew this one. 

The planes of its face were familiar, warm. It spoke something different that Cyrus couldn’t understand, but its voice was warm. The scent of it, warm like fire and spice, safe and made him relax. There was no ill intent there, only love… caring. The creature-- _man,_ something inside him offered--kneeled beside him cupping his face so their eyes met through Cyrus’s long hair. 

“Kyros…” he said, trying to mimic the word he recognized from this one’s voice. “Kurush…”

He smiled, “That’s right. You’re Cyrus. Do you know who I am?”

“ _Arammu…_ ” he replied with a dazed smile and leaned forward into his arms, letting him card a hand through his hair and speak to him gently. His  _Arammu_ helped him stand, directing him back to the bed across the scorched floor and sat with him pressed against his side, soothing him. 

He flinched as the door opened again, but his _Arammu_ hushed him, stroking his hair and all he could smell was him, calm, well-meaning. Whatever the creature who came in wanted, it wasn’t to hurt him. His _Arammu_ wouldn’t let them hurt him anymore. He dozed off against his chest, breathing the scent of him, feeling his warmth and letting it feed some part of him that he hadn't realized was hungry. 

_Viktor_ , the small voice said soft and desperate in the dark, broken down and bloody, reaching for something, someone,  _anything_ to help ease the pain of the long sounding echo that seemed to have no end.

*

When Cyrus is fast asleep and they’ve done all the checks they can, Viktor tucked him in with his robe and followed the Healer outside to speak with him. 

“Those Healers were hurt pretty badly, something like Dragonfire,” she said. “We’ve called a magical beast specialist to deal with him.”

His eyes narrowed, “His name is Cyrus. Will you at least tell say if he’s healing?”

She shrugged, “Healing well enough. He probably won’t be released though since he clearly can’t speak.”

“He spoke just fine,” Viktor said. “You are Healer, have not heard of shock? Trauma?”

She gave him a flat look and he shook his head, telling her to go about her business and he would wait for the magical beast specialist or whoever they’d called. The woman came in happy and smiling, shaking his hand before following Viktor in to see Cyrus.

“Cyrus,” she said gently. He woke up slowly from where Viktor had gathered him in his arms to keep him calm. He groaned, turning his head into Viktor’s shoulder. “Hi, I’m Healer Nekimah, how are you?”

He looked at her strangely leaning to look at her as she waited patiently for him to be done. Cyrus leaned back regarding her and then looked to Viktor who smiled at him. 

“Well, that’s a better start than I’d hoped.”

She nodded looking between the two of them, “You two have a relationship, I take it.”

“He’s my best friend,” Viktor said. “We went to school together.”

“He trusts you.”

Viktor nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Then let’s get started!”

It takes an hour to test Cyrus’s cognition skills, another hour to see if he was physically okay. She pronounced him in good health mentally and his cognition skills hadn’t been impaired, he was simply in shock. 

“Is there somewhere familiar you could take him?” She asked watching Cyrus eat from the container Viktor had given him. It had taken a little nudging and demonstration for Cyrus to pick up the fork rather than stare at the bowl. Luckily, Viktor had been prepared to eat lunch with him so the entire process went smoother.

“My home I guess is as familiar as anything…”

She nodded, “Step outside with me a moment?”

He nodded and stroked Cyrus’s head before pressing a kiss to his temple. It was the way he said he’d be back soon and the only way Cyrus didn’t try to follow him out the door. 

She set up a privacy ward around them and told him plainly that she was prepared to release him from St. Mungo's as there was nothing that they could do for him here, but that Viktor had to know the truth. Dementors, quite often, only fed on humans for a reason. There was a theory that they used to be more humanoid themselves and as they ate souls to gain immortality they lost their minds and their ability to do anything but devour and destroy. She looked through the view window to check on Cyrus who was still eating quietly. 

“Whatever Cyrus is,” she said. “He isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before, but he is at least partially human. From the reports I’ve read on his time in Azkaban, he should be dead. Instead, it seems that the Dementors… sucked more than just his happiness out of him, but perhaps his very humanity in order to get to his soul.”

Viktor swallowed looking into the room. 

“His...humanity?”

She nodded. “Human magic is different that creature magic, you know that?”

He let out a breath, “What will that mean for Cyrus?”

“I don’t know. I simply don’t know what he is to even begin to guess. It’s possible that he’ll recover use of his more human faculties, emotions that sort of thing, it’s even possible that he’ll be able to perform wizarding magic again, but nothing is sure. He may never feel anything like he used to, he may… remain just like this for the rest of his life.”

Viktor let out a breath, “There is… a Professor Locken… he called Cyrus a...draconusmortis.”

She hummed, “I’ve never heard the term, but I’d be glad to speak with him about Cyrus’s condition.”

Viktor smiled, “Please?”

She nodded and pat him on the shoulder, “Give me his information. I’ll be back with Cyrus’s discharge papers.”

Viktor sighed and walked back into the room. Cyrus looked up to see Viktor, having finished eating and stacked the clean bowls neatly. 

_ Clean? _ He thought strangely. Viktor lifted the bag he’d carried them into set them in and smiled at Cyrus. 

“You are quite the wonder. aren’t you?” Viktor asked kindly. He set the bad aside and dug into his pocket. “I brought this for you, hoped it would help… Thought it was time to return it to you.”

He produced the medallion, shining a pure gold with it strange markings, attached to a goblin forged chain he was sure. He held it up to Cyrus to see. He looked at it strangely, reached out for it, hesitant and a tad afraid of it maybe. 

“It’s okay,” Viktor said gently. “It’s okay.”

He knew that there was something about this medallion, a reason that something in him was telling him not to take it, but he ran a finger over the surface and it felt like lightning through him. He froze and Viktor swallowed thickly. In the next moment, Cyrus’s hand closed over it and his eyes fluttered until he looked up at Viktor as if seeing him for the first time, then around the room. 

“V-Viktor?”

He gasped hearing his name on Cyrus’s lips, “Cyrus? Do you… do you know where you are?”

“St. Mungo's…” he said, taking a deep breath. “My head is killing me… What… I was…”

Viktor pulled him close, squeezing him, “Just… just breathe, okay? Try not to take it all in.”

Cyrus chuckled, “You take your own advice yeah?”

Viktor chuckled breathlessly as Cyrus looked around, “I… take it that I’m the cause for the scorchmarks?”

He laughed, “Yes, but that’s okay too.”

He pulled back looking at Cyrus, “I’m… taking you home with me.”

“Like a pet?” Cyrus asked. “Or a slave? I guess more a pet since I don’t have any humanity left, right?"

Viktor’s jaw dropped, “You… you heard that through the door?”

Cyrus rolled his neck, “Yeah… I did… sucks.”

Viktor eyed him, not sure. It seemed that Cyrus was acting the way he usually did, but he felt nothing coming off him, only able to go off of Cyrus’s expressions. There was something off, he knew but… at least perhaps with Cyrus speaking a language he could understand again, there was hope. 

“I’m back,” she said walking in. “How are you doing?”

“Alive and yourself?”

She froze at the sound of Cyrus’s voice, “Well… much better that I can discharge you and you can sign yourself out!”

Cyrus took the quill and signed promptly, standing and getting out of bed. As he did so, his hospital gown changed color, grew longer and shoes appeared for him to slip into. She stared surprised at him. 

“Welll… uhm…”

He held out his hand, “Thank you for treating me like a person.”

She smiled and shook his head, “If you have any questions, feel free to come back.”

Cyrus nodded as Viktor grabbed his bag and followed after him, careful to keep an eye on him as he marched through the hallways and down towards the fireplaces. Viktor stepped in with him and called out the name of his home, stepping into the public floo that was in the center of the area he lived in before leading him on the short trek to Vitkor’s home by the Black Sea. 

Cyrus breathed in, “It’s going to rain.”

Viktor smiled, “Well, then we’d better get inside.”

Cyrus followed him in and immediately felt a lot more at ease. There wasn’t a breath he took that wasn’t filled with Viktor’s scent. He’d have to get used to being surrounded by something that smelled so good. Viktor led him upstairs to the room he’d made up for him. Even in this room, he could smell Viktor. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. 

Viktor only hugged him, “You are my best friend, there need not be any thanks.”

Cyrus turned his head, his lips grazing Viktor’s cheek and he flinched away realizing what he’d done. 

“I’m… I’m sorry--I didn’t…”

Viktor opened his mouth to say something, but then Cyrus was out of the room apparently apparated out of the house leaving Viktor to wonder if, like Elves, whatever Cyrus was was immune to warding spells as well. 

It would make it a hell of a lot more difficult to keep Cyrus from running away now wouldn’t it?

_Perhaps... I should contact someone about this..._


End file.
